#but they didn’t want a non sentient version of there son in the household

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea 30

Ellie has been vibing in Gotham with the bats. She knows their identity and they know hers. She’s been unofficially adopted. She won’t give up her last name and seemingly doesn’t exist so he can’t do it legally.. yet.

All of them think she ran away from her family. They are very concerned with her relationship with her brother. She’s saying things about how he forced her to leave, taunting foes about how her brother hits harder, called her unstable and so forth. Not to mention the lack of education and lack of social knowledge. She didn’t even know about stranger danger. They just have a bad view on the whole family.

She never explained he sent her away after a close call with the GIW (she remembers getting dragged into the van unable to escape), he trained her to fight better, he gave up a part of his core to stabilize her, and did everything he could to keep her safe. Ellie had not disclosed she’s a clone and has no intention of it.

One day when she’s out on patrol she spots Danny. As he’s human she detransforms to tackle hugs him properly. It’s dark out and she doesn’t notice the bags or pain in his eyes until she’s on him.

The way he stumbled back and the dried blood on his shirt didn’t bode well. Danny just kinda smiles at her and snaps a bracelet on her. She can feel the sudden loss of her powers.

Danny tells her while she had a close call he had the full call. The Giw had found a way to trace his core and it was leading them to Gotham despite having him locked up. The GIW naturally assumed they didn’t have the real phantom.

Danny explains everything too quickly for her to process. It’s not even until her feet are frozen to the ground in an alley hidden away does she realize what’s going on.

She can’t see it but hears the GIW catch him. Hears them call his scum and the shots. Hears the cheer when he was shot down and the engine of a vehicle zooming away.

All while the bats have been looking for Ellie. She just keeps turning invisible on patrol and ditching them. Not to mention they haven’t gotten any com/tracker to work due to her ghostliness. By the time they do she’s sitting in an alley in a puddle of water seemingly in shock.

It’s only then do they get the full story.

When Danny wakes up he expected to be stranded to a table again. Not in a room attached to medical equipment with freshly treated wounds and Ellie sitting besides him.

[ron-stepupable]

So: fanfic about victor noticing Sarah and Nina’s similarities. The setting is after victor and sweetie confiscate the amulets but in this version Nina was wearing that pearl bracelet Sarah gave her after she died and victor also took that. Also FYI Nina came kind of overly aggressive in this so....warning? (I guess it’s not that out of character 😂) also format is shit I didn’t want to do a link.

During history, I could barely function. All I could focus on was how on earth would we get our amulets back from Victor, and fast. We could never find them mask with one amulet, it just wasn’t feasible. But Victor would never let the amulets leave his sight now, so the only way to get them back would be in plain sight.

I knocked on his door.

“Enter,” Sweetie granted diplomatically. On his desk, were several plastic bags with items of jewelry in them and student’s names on the outsides of them.

“Ah, hello, Nina, there should be a bag with your name on it somewhere...feel free to take a look.” Was this how we interacted now? Straight denial? Were we to pretend as if nothing ever happened, like he hadn’t just de-railed our entire quest. I perused the plastic bags and frowned.

“My name’s not here,” I gestured to parcels. Sweetie looked up and removed his spectacles.

“Hmm...Victor must have taken Anubis resident’s parcels. I’d check with him.” He seemed unphased, like none of this mattered, and to him it didn’t. I didn’t say a word in response as I left for the door. Then, halfway through the door turned around glared at him.

“You know what you are?”

He looked at me blankly.

“You’re a pawn,” I didn’t even feel guilty about saying it. “Victor is the chess master and you are his pawn. He is more headmaster than you are.”

And I left. He stayed behind spluttering pointless words. Someday I might harbor respect for that man, but certainly not now.

In Anubis house, I found two bags on the dining room table. One for Amber and one for Patricia, but not one for me. Damn him. He was a thief. That’s what he was, a manipulative, lying thief. How dare he pocket something like that? Something Sarah had given me—the last thing I had as a token of her love and care—and he pocketed it and acted like it was meant for him. It made me want to scream. He could steal the amulets, he could act like nothing had happened. But not that. Sarah gave that to me and not Victor for a reason. All the way to the top of the stairs I huffed, and then realised he wasn't there. So I huffed all the way to the bottom of the stairs and found Vera in the kitchen with her hands in a bowl of mashed peas.

“Vera?” I asked. She sighed exasperatedly but plastered on a seemingly genuine smile.

“Yes, dear?”

“Has Victor gone out?”

She thought for a few selective moments.

“Yes, I believe you just missed him, I should think he’s headed into town for some supplies.”

My face could have done one of two things: either gotten softer or harder and more murderous, I honestly have no idea. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, but I’m sure it’ll keep,” I lied and promptly left the room. Victor had crossed the line and now I would too.

Like a ticking bomb, two hours later, the front door to Anubis slammed open and in stormed Victor. I jumped at once from the sofa and hurried toward the foyer. Victor beat me to it.

“Nina Martin? A word in my office.” He turned and left. Let’s just say I followed. In his office, Victor was in his prime, he held authority in this postage stamp office. There was no way I’d ever win an argument here.

“I have something of yours,” he said calmly, putting his hand into his trench coat pocket. My spine tingled and only intensified as Victor retrieved the small pearled bracelet from his pocket. He cradled it like a priceless artifact and lifted it slightly into the air, but carefully as not to risk any chance of dropping it. A slight wave of guilt washed over me. I didn’t treasure that piece of history like he did. I didn’t hold it close to my chest and appreciate the artisan. He held his wrist out and gestured me to do so. I held my arm out cautiously and kept still while Victor fastened the clasp around my wrist with his wrinkled fingertips.

“Louisa always wore this.” He said with just a slight hint of bitterness. “I never saw her without it—ever. She was talented like that, with art. But that wasn’t what was so great about her.” He smoothed his thumb over the glass charm and dare I say he smiled? “She was ridiculously brave and I’ve never met anyone who loved as much as she did.” He let go of my hand and I returned it to my side. The bracelet now felt like a led weight. Victor’s eyes held memories too painful to comprehend. Somehow I needed to lighten them.

“I have something for you,” I blurted. “Wait here.” The door clicked behind me and I hurried off to my room. In the box of Sarah’s things hidden away in the passage, I retrieved a small leather bound notebook inscribed with RFS on the spine. I thumbed through the pages until I made sure this one had what I was looking for.

November 11th, 1919,

I am freed. We are all freed and soon we will go home. I count the minutes until I will be reunited with Louisa, and Sarah. You, non-sentient journal, couldn’t possibly fathom how deeply I miss them. It has been two years since I saw them last. I do feel some guilt my brothers fought for six long years while I served only two. But when these bouts of guilt come I should remember I was doing more important things than fighting for some land and a new democracy.

Sarah has written me about the boy who now occupies my house. And she writes so vividly of who he is, I feel as if I already know him. Of course I know of his father, though I haven’t spoken to him in years. Often I wonder if I’ve made the right choice in asking him to help care for Louisa and Sarah in my absence. Louisa has written that she dislikes him and would rather live with Satan himself. But how could I leave his little boy, Sarah’s new found “soulmate” so she says alone with the man Louisa has described? I have a duty of humanity to that little boy. No, the Rodenmaars will not be leaving Anubis house anytime soon.

It astonished me how much Robert cared for Victor before he had even met him. I do wish I could have met Robert, his writing mesmerizes me and his love for his family struck the same chord I lived on. I picked up a second journal and flipped to the end.

December 9th, 1921

I want Rodenmaar out of my house. I offered him all the money in the world to leave this house and never return, leaving Victor behind. I assumed a man of his stature would jump at the chance but he refused. What an arse. He is not the kind of man to nurture even his own son. What ties could he have to a seven year old who’s birthday he doesn’t even know? He must be onto us, otherwise he would have no reason to stay. To make things worse, the other night Rodenmaar spoke with Victor in his office again. Victor left crying. When I asked what had been said to him, Victor shook his head and ran outside to the park with Sarah and Rufus. On the face of that little boy I see such strength. I haven’t decided whether it is because he is a child and problems of this caliber sometimes lose their weight, or because he has learned and adapted to such power. Either way, he inspires me. I want to tell him that whilst trying to sleep under the weight of this daunting duty of mine or when my heart begins to flutter with the fear I know I shouldn’t feel I think of him and how indestructible he is, even at age seven. He doesn't deserve that man, especially not after all he’s done for us; making Louisa and I cry with laughter or give us the opportunity to to tack our crack at raising a son. And he’s so very good to Sarah. That boy is the heartbeat of this household. And his suffering breaks my heart into a million little pieces.

Ps: Rodenmaar, if you are reading this, know that you will never find what I have hidden. No matter how hard you seek. Give up now and leave your son with me. Also, you sir, are an asshole and I hope you burn in hell.

I had read this entry before and it never seemed to resonate with me. Maybe because I thought it didn’t resonate with Victor, but clearly I was wrong about that. And if I was wrong about that, what else was I wrong about?

I snapped the journal closed and hightailed it back to Victor’s office where he waited with an intensely confused look on his face. I handed him the journals.

“I think you’ll find page 15 and 29 interesting.” I turned to go but he waved his hand and I stopped in my tracks. He read each entry carefully, about three minutes each. I had trig homework calling my name but I didn’t dare rush him, and I didn’t dare leave. Finally, he sighed and closed the journals.

“I am sorry,” was all he said.

“For what?”

“I have judged you harshly, chosen one. You are more like her than I had thought.”

I was about to open my mouth and ask who but then I noticed where his eyes were focused. On an old brown photo on the right side of the wall. It was on the front porch of Anubis. There was a man there, and a woman too—Robert and Louisa. On Robert’s knee was a little girl with a fierce stare and ribbons as long as America itself attached to her braids. On Louisa’s thigh, hidden by a flowered skirt (appropriately ending just past the knee) sat a tiny, skinny little boy. But that little boy was smiling to his ears, looking at the little girl to his left. No one else in that photo smiled, but he did. There was so much joy in those round brown eyes. And yet four months later it would shatter.

“I miss her,” I couldn’t help but say. I cursed myself for speaking. Victor stiffened and cleared his throat. It was the wrong door to open but there was no turning back now.

“I…” his hand hovered by his collar. The string of an amulet was poking through his shirt. My heart beat four times faster. If I keep this ball rolling could I manipulate his focus into giving them back? Never, but it was a nice thought. His fingers latched around the black string and he began to pull up, then he froze.

“She gave so much of herself to help me find my path,” I cut in. It might have been the wrong door, but boy would I knock it down.

“I—” his fingers let go of the string and his hands returned to the side. “You may leave now, miss Martin.” My fingers crunched like my parents' car around that telephone pole. I swallowed a mouthful of rage and nodded curtly. Then I left. How The Frobisher-Smythes ever held adoration for that man-boy is the greatest mystery this house has to offer. But then I think of moments like that—where he let his humanity take control. For a moment he was real, and for that moment he was something other than just the enemy—he was, like Robert had said, the heartbeat of the house.